Seymour
by ShannanBrooks
Summary: The thoughts through the eyes of Seymour, from the first time he met his master, to the last days of his life.


The red haired young man I had seen a few times before sat down heavily on old cement steps and sighed as he stared out at the cold, heartless city that was spread out before him.

Dressed in stained jeans from working in a pizzeria, an equally stained white t-shirt and a red jacket, he picked up a box sitting beside him on the porch and opened it, revealing fresh and hot pepperoni pizza slices which seemed to overpower the entire city as I risked a few steps closer.

I must've whimpered or whined, because somehow I got his attention.

His eyes narrowed at me for a second or two, making me bow my head and cower like I do with every other human I meet, but to my surprise, and great joy, his face softened and he outstretched a hand that smelled of the pizza he was still holding in a box on his lap.

Instinctively, I sniffed the hand and licked off the sauce and grease, making him chuckle a little before he dropped an entire slice on the ground just for me. For me!

I ate hungrily and happily, mostly used to dumpster food and random other things we eat most people find disgusting.

To everyone else, I was just a mutt. Troublesome. A nuisance.

But to him, I was worthy enough for pizza and affection.

After he finished with his meal, he stood up, tossed the empty, grease-stained box in the trash and picked up his bike, ready to head home after another long and degrading shift.

I sat prettily on the street, watching as he turned into nothing more than a dot on the horizon of a cold city, finding it ironic he was singing about walking on sunshine itself.

Over the next few months, the weather turned colder, the holiday lights came out and lit up the world in golds, reds and greens, while the smells of pine and fireplaces became more and more apparent.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could drown out the smell of the pizzeria where I spent most of my time watching him work.

To me, he was my master, my human-my best friend in the world. No one else had given me the time of day and I would be loyal to him forever.

After the holidays had come and gone, and the lights were slowly put away for another year, I watched with interest as yet another festivity came upon us. They sold glasses with the year on them, as well as funny hats, and the city was excited because it was the end of an entire century and the start of something new. Better.

As he stepped outside with a pizza after being yelled at by his boss for playing a video game, he stood face to face with his girlfriend riding in a cab with another man, breaking his heart.

She just broke up with him. Just like that.

Like he meant nothing to her.

I licked his hand and sat next to him, looking up at him as his hand made contact with the top of my head and his fingers scratched behind my ears.

No matter how he felt, no matter what was going on in his life, he always returned the affection I gave him.

He let out a heavy sigh and got on his bike, having tossed the box of pizza into the basket on the front, smiled at me once more and rode away.

I was two when he rode away. The world was celebrating a new year and I waited for him to return after the delivery.

That was the last place I would be, too.

For the first few days, I stood up quickly whenever I saw someone walking down the sidewalk who looked a little like he did.

Over time, I saw pity in people's eyes when they looked at me, knowing full well I was there because of my master who had been missing for awhile now. No one knew where he went or why he left, but I was never angry with him because of it.

I missed the affection, the interaction, the sound of his voice and the way he smelled of pizza. I missed the way he'd sing about how life was wonderful, simply because we were the same and he didn't really think about things for too long, lest we get depressed.

Time slipped by quickly for me, for I don't have the luxury of a long life like humans do.

But even they gave up on ever seeing him again.

Not me.

That's all I wanted.

Even now, as the world celebrates yet another new year, fifteen years had passed since I last saw him.

For the past few weeks, two men of faith had been sitting on a bench nearby, discussing what happens to us when we die.

It wasn't a gamble I wanted to take, but one that would be taken for me very shortly.

I lowered my head to the ground and sighed, watching as the world faded away from me.

But that was alright.

If we did get to meet again in the next life, I'd remember who he was. I'd remember the pizza and the song. But most of all, I'd remember how he'd make me feel by the way his smile seemed to make my heart skip a beat every single time.

This wasn't a question of my loyalty or his. It wasn't about how much he loved me or I him.

This was about things bigger than the two of us and how we were both overlooked in the grand scheme of things.

I somehow knew this, but yet couldn't bring myself to leave. Not in case he came back, although I'd always hoped he would, but because there was no other place I'd rather be than where my life started so many years ago.

He was my home, my life, my human.

And there was nothing in this world that would ever change that fact.


End file.
